


Close at Hand

by oceaxe



Series: Closer Than Skin [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Partners, M/M, Mutual Pining, Shaving Down There, Stakeout, Wet Shave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe
Summary: Harry gets what he asks for, and then some.Thanks for Goldentruth for the look-see! (sorry Aibidil)





	Close at Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaesterChill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesterChill/gifts).



Harry reclines on the black leather of the chaise, his tatty joggers around his thighs, his cock jutting into the air. I stare at it for a moment, surrounded by a wild thatch of dark curls. It will be a shame to alter such perfection, like removing the gilt frame of an old Dutch master. But needs must. The process should be enjoyable, at any rate. And the goal is more tangible than aesthetic, so to speak.

Harry’s hands grip the arms of the chair tightly. My eyes devour the expanse of him, slowly traveling up over his flushed chest, over his collarbone and neck to his face. He’s looking at the ceiling, biting his lip. I’m glad he’s not looking at me, as I feel close to losing control. I’m shocked by his willingness to play my game–in truth, I’m not sure who’s in charge of this any longer.

I wrap my hands around Harry’s ankles and ignore his sharp inhalation as, with a whispered spell, the lower half of the chaise disappears. It now ends just under his arse. Two supports cradle his ankles, holding his legs out on either side of me. I kneel between them and meet his gaze as he lifts his head up. His cock bobs with the shift of his body and I find myself following its movement like a cat sighting prey.

“Clever,” he murmurs. “You’ve thought of everything.” His head hits the chair again with a thud.

“Indeed,” I say. He has no idea how far I’ve planned.

The whole upper part of his thick, ridged cock shines with precome. I lean forward to examine the pattern of his pubic hair, the grain of its growth so I can plan my attack. It’s my first misstep; the smell of him is so rich there, I can’t help but take in a long deep breath and it hits my hind brain so hard I’m coming untouched, shuddering but silent.

Humiliation wars with satisfaction but I decide it’s a negligible loss. I’ll have no trouble getting hard again, given the feast that’s before me, and in the meantime I’ll be able to focus better. The radius of my cleaning charm is wider than it would otherwise have been, but taking care of two birds with one stone is something of a specialty of mine.

“I just showered last night, Malfoy,” Harry says, mildly disgruntled. I wonder if he thinks I was offended by his smell. Someday I might put his ego to rest on that point.

“The skin needs to be clean for the razor, unless you want insalubrious consequences,” I say, and as the word leaves my mouth I know I’m going to regret using it. Sure enough, he snickers and repeats “insalubrious” under his breath.

My hand at the top of his thigh quells him instantly. I let my thumb stroke the skin there, watching the way his cock responds. Yes, coming first was sheer genius. I plan to forget that it hadn’t been intentional.

I summon the soap and brush. “Ahhhh,” he gasps as the cool lather touches the base of his cock and covers the hair around his bollocks, down to the juncture of his thighs. I leave the hair above his shaft untouched, the way it shades into his joytrail is too erotic to tamper with.

I take my time sharpening the razor, watching the way his skin forms goosebumps at the menacing sound. My nostrils flare and I can feel my cock coming back to life. He’s so responsive, it’s almost unfair. I know he’s going to ruin me for other lovers, but what the hell.

The first drag of the razor against his groin is explosive. His muscles jerk and twist minutely, his breathing turning erratic. “Fuck,” he says, but he doesn’t sound displeased, far from it.

I admit, I’m impressed that he doesn’t warn me to be careful. He must trust me. The thought fills me with the heat of lust and warmth of a different nature. Another stroke takes with it dark curls, exposing the skin underneath.

His bollocks are tightening as I get closer to them, which is hardly surprising, but I can’t know, without using Legilimency, whether it’s fear or arousal causing the reaction. I could ask, but don’t want to ruin the suspense. I support them with my left hand, carefully stroking downwards, and Harry’s strangled moan answers that question. His cock is painfully hard and as I look, a spurt of precome leaks out the slit. His sack tightens further, his knuckles turning white as he clings to the armrests desperately. He’s about to come.

Normally this would be brilliant. Normally I’d take it all in my mouth and demand more. But not now. Not yet.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. “Steady on, there, Potter,” I say gently but firmly. “Hold still.” Without further warning, I spell a thick metal cock ring around his balls and base of his erection, halting the upwards progression that was threatening to ruin my fun. Now the skin is nice, tight and full. Perfect. The unearthly groan from Harry’s throat is an added benefit.

“Malfoy,” he says, breathless and shocked. “What-”

“Cock ring. Never used one before? Don’t worry, you’ll still be able to come. When I let you.” I can’t keep the smugness out of my voice and I don’t even try. This is quite literally a dream come true and I intend to milk it for all its worth.

I return to his balls, taking exquisite care to remove the hair with precision. His breathing is ragged but he won’t come now until I decide the time is right. With a few more strokes, his pubis is smooth as silk.

“Are you done?” he asks, voice strangled with frustrated desire. I’m floating on air, high on my own arousal and cleverness.

“Almost,” I say, keeping my voice controlled. I think about warning him what’s coming next, but decide not to. Consider it repayment for the two times he’s stunned me in the last hour. Instead, I push on the supports for his ankles until they move closer to his body, raising his knees in the air. I splay them apart, exposing him further.

He’s got a fair amount of hair here. Before he can ask what I’m doing, I spread him even wider then lather his arsehole generously. He jerks away but settles when I lay my hands on the tops of his thighs, gentling him down. The way he submits to my touch is beyond erotic. My erection pushes against the silk of my pajamas and I yearn for something to frot against. I press the heel of my hand against its base and pray Merlin for patience.

“Stay absolutely still, Potter,” I command.

There’s no time to whet the razor with the strap– I sharpen it with a spell and whisk away the hairs there with three well-aimed sweeps.

Then, with a swift swipe of my hand and a muttered Lubricus, I have the most appealing sight before me. A dusky rose-brown hole, surrounded by clean, smooth skin, twitching and vulnerable. Waiting for me.

“Malfoy,” he whispers, and I answer him by circling the lovely furl of his entrance, just a light, skating touch. He shivers and moans. I do it again, drawing another, deeper moan, then he shimmies side to side and I dart in, only the tip.

Only the tip, and I’m inside him. Inside his body. I shudder with the gravity of what we’re doing; this is serious. This is for real. I’m not playing and neither is he.

“More,” he says, wrecked. I look up and his head is rocking side to side. His cock in front of me, inches away, looks like he would come if I so much as breathed on it. I slide my finger more deeply in and crook it up.

 _Come hither,_ I think to myself, and smile.

Harry’s back arches off the chaise and slams back down as he cries out. I graze it again, that gem of nerves inside him, stroking around and around and around, always varying the direction, the speed. He can’t accommodate it or get used to it, and his body jerks like a fish on the line. He’s moaning continuously now; it sounds like begging, it sounds like music. I keep going, my finger starting to cramp so I slide another in, change the angle. He shouts, I grin– I could keep this up all night. Switch hands if I have to. Spell a dildo; god knows I brought plenty with me on this stakeout.

I’m mesmerized by his reactions. His body undulates, his eyes clenched shut like he’s being tortured, and oh, he is. I’m doing this to him and I’m so fucking happy he likes it. He loves it.

His cries turn guttural and I know he's close. Another half a minute and clear fluid spills out of him and he’s crying out like he’s seen the face of God.

But I’m not done with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://www.oceaxereturns.tumblr.com)!


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